


on fire, invisible smoke

by ShowMeAHero



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fights, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Married Couple, Post-IT (2017), Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019), Protectiveness, Punching, Smut, Top Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: Eddie has been married to Richie for six years, now, and they’ve been together for fifteen total, and he still gets paranoid about letting him out of his sight for too long. It’s an entire childhood of his mother telling him he’ll die without her. He might be twenty-eight years old, and he might be medicated and going to therapy, but it still pops up periodically.It’s also fucked up that, sometimes, moments like that are validated.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 25
Kudos: 467





	on fire, invisible smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ["The Archer"](https://genius.com/Taylor-swift-the-archer-lyrics) by Taylor Swift.

Eddie has been married to Richie for six years, now, and they’ve been together for fifteen total, and he still gets paranoid about letting him out of his sight for too long. It’s an entire childhood of his mother telling him he’ll die without her. He might be twenty-eight years old, and he might be medicated and going to therapy, but it still pops up periodically.

It’s also fucked up that, sometimes, moments like that are validated.

Richie is getting more and more popular, which means Eddie has been getting more and more nervous. He has shows that will periodically sell out, plus a two-years-steady gig on  _ Saturday Night Live,  _ and that means he’s always doing interviews or filming some movie or something now. It’s exactly what he’s always wanted, and Eddie’s happy for him, and it gives him fucking  _ hives. _

This is why Eddie likes to walk Richie home. That, and he just likes to be with him; they decompress on their walks, taking the familiar route home hand-in-hand every single day. It’s nice, to talk and spend time together. Eddie loves having that time carved out.

Richie’s usually also on time, if not a couple minutes early because he manages to escape early. Very rarely is he late by a few minutes, and even more rarely by twenty.

Luckily, he’s come to 30 Rock so many times that Sam the night guard lets him up. When he sees himself in the reflection of the inside of the elevator doors, he’s frowning, his face all wrinkled up. He tries to smooth it out, but it just twists back up when he reaches the correct floor and can hear shouting down the hall. The first voice he hears is unfamiliar, but the second voice is Richie’s; it’s loud, but indecipherable. Eddie takes off at a run anyways.

“I really don’t care!” Richie shouts. “I have to go—”

“No, no,” the voice says, too loudly. Eddie’s run becomes a sprint, and then he’s spinning around a corner and someone’s arguing with Richie.

“Hey!” Eddie barks. Richie looks up, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Oh, look, it’s Eddie!” Richie calls, looking so massively relieved that Eddie’s instantly pissed off at whoever this person is. He slips his hand into Richie’s once he gets to them, glaring as directly as he can. “Hi, Eddie, this is…” Richie hesitates, then says, “I’m— I’m sorry, I missed your name?”

“Geoff,” the guy says.

“Jeff?” Eddie repeats.

“No,  _ Geoff,”  _ Geoff repeats. Eddie looks up at Richie, at the furrowed look on his face.

“Jeff,” Richie tells him. There’s a huff from Geoff.

“I’m just like— a really big fan, and I was taking a tour and I wanted to come in and say hello,” Geoff explains. Eddie’s getting a weird feeling about this guy. “And then I found Richie here and I thought I could just come over and introduce myself!”

“And it’s been great to meet you, but Eddie’s my ride, so we’re just gonna—” Richie clicks his tongue and motions over his shoulder with a thumb. “—skedaddle, so—”

“So you’re Eddie Tozier,” Geoff says. Eddie’s feeling even more freaked out; he hates when people recognize  _ him.  _ “What’s it like, knowing Richie?”

“Oh, it’s— it’s great,” Eddie says, caught between smiling at Richie and telling this guy to fuck off. “We do have to go—”

“Where do you have to go?” Geoff asks. Eddie scowls up at him and backs up a step; Richie follows him, shadowing his steps.

“We’re just going home,” Richie says. “It was really great to meet you, though, but you should probably go back to your tour—”

Geoff takes a step forward, and Eddie moves instinctively, pulling Richie behind himself and stepping in front of him. Geoff just puts his hands up, palms forward, like he’s saying he’s innocent, but Eddie still snaps, “Back up.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Geoff snaps back. Eddie fucking  _ feels  _ his hackles go up, his muscles all tensing up. “I just wanted to say hello, it's the fans that make your career, Richie.”

“Please, we’re just gonna go,” Richie says. He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, but Eddie wants to rip forwards and tear into the guy. “No big deal. Just heading out.”

“I just wanted to talk,” Geoff says again. He takes another step, and Richie’s leaning forward, in Eddie’s peripheral. Eddie turns and pushes his hand against Richie’s chest.

“Let’s just head out,” Eddie says. “Turn around, let’s go.”

Richie starts to turn, but then Geoff says, “Don’t let this shithead tell you what to do, Richie.”

Eddie’s skin crawls, but Richie leans up over him first and says, “Hey, fucking  _ look,  _ dickbag—”

“Stop,” Eddie cuts him off. Richie does stop, as told, and glares at Geoff over Eddie’s head before looking down at him. “Let’s just go.”

“My friends always said you were one of the worst on the show,” Geoff shouts at him, and  _ that’s  _ the raised voice Eddie heard when he was coming down the hall. He turns back around, sick of having his back to Geoff, and curls his hands up into fists at his sides.

“Hey, fuck you,” Eddie snaps. “How the fuck did you even get in here?”

“Whole thing went downhill once they started letting fucking fags like you on the show,” Geoff shoots back. Eddie doesn’t even hesitate; he pulls his arm back and lets go, knocking him right in the jaw. Geoff staggers sideways, and Eddie backs up, shaking out his fist as he pushes Richie back behind himself.

“Go get help,” Eddie says, but Richie doesn’t move. “Richie,  _ go.” _

Richie does, turning and running back down the hall, but he’s only gone for two beats before he’s running back with a guard from the elevator and a three-hole punch in his hands. He’s wielding it like it’s a bat just as Geoff comes at Eddie again. He manages to punch Eddie in the shoulder, but Eddie shoves him back, swinging again and nailing Geoff in the jaw so hard he hits the ground.

The security guard grabs Geoff and drags him away at the same time Richie does the same to Eddie, cupping his face in his hands. Eddie’s vibrating, so enraged he could tear Geoff’s arms off if Richie let him go, but he won’t. Instead, Richie just looks Eddie over, terror all over his face.

“Are you okay?” Richie demands. Eddie takes the three-hole punch out of his hands and tosses it aside before tugging Richie in for a deep kiss. 

They have to talk to the security guards and to the cops, but then Eddie drags Richie down the hall to his dinky little office. He has a sofa filling the length of one short wall; that’s where Richie pushes Eddie down and takes Eddie’s bruised hand in both of his own to examine it. He looks over his swollen knuckles with a creased forehead.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, still shaking. Richie looks up at him, his expression flickering between whatever he’s actually feeling and whatever he wants to be feeling.

“Am  _ I  _ okay? He  _ hit  _ you,” Richie says.

“He was screaming at you, Richie,” Eddie reminds him. Richie lifts himself up onto his knees and yanks Eddie in again, licking into his mouth, behind his teeth, moaning loudly down his throat. Eddie pulls back briefly, just to ask, “Are you really okay?”

“I’m really okay, I’m just kinda shaken up and— and that was really hot, I don’t know, I just love you—” Richie manages to get out, before Eddie’s kissing him again. He tips himself backwards on the sofa, dragging Richie with him; Richie takes advantage of it to blanket Eddie’s body with his like he likes, tucking his face into Eddie’s throat and inhaling deeply before he kisses him there.

“You’re okay,” Eddie tells him. Richie tears Eddie’s shirt up over his head, biting down his chest to his nipple. He digs into Eddie’s sides; Eddie can’t help but feel so fucking warm and loved, happy underneath the shivering anger that’s bubbling through his bloodstream. He feels a surge of protectiveness go through him, then, and he flips them so he’s pinning Richie into his beat-up old sofa.

“I love you,” Richie whimpers, as Eddie bites a hickey underneath his ear. Richie whines, high in his throat, his hips bucking up. “Thank you—”

“Nobody should fucking touch you,” Eddie says. Richie nods vigorously, even when Eddie continues,  _ “Fuck,  _ I wish I was the only one who could touch you. I should be the only one.”

“You should,” Richie agrees. He pushes up again, grinding their hips together, the lines of their cocks running along each other’s through their pants. Eddie shivers, then reaches down to push Richie’s hips back down. He leans up, yanking his pants open and down before doing the same to Richie, taking them both in hand and jerking them off together.

“Do you still have lube in your drawer?” Eddie asks. Richie nods, wriggling under Eddie’s hands; he whines when Eddie gets up to dig through Richie’s desk and come up with the lube bottle they keep in there. He snaps it open and uses it to slip two fingers into Richie, making him slam his fist down into the sofa cushions as he fights to keep quiet enough to prevent them from getting caught.

_ “Fuck,  _ motherfucker,” Richie curses breathlessly. Eddie fingers him open with jerky, heated movements, slipping in a third finger before Richie writhes under him and says,  _ “Enough,  _ that’s enough, come  _ on—” _

“I got you,” Eddie tells him. “I’ll take care of you—”

“I know—”

_ “Fuck,”  _ Eddie says, as he slicks himself up and lines up with Richie’s hole. Richie’s still mostly-dressed, Eddie only shirtless with his pants tugged down, but Eddie kind of loves it, when he fucks deep into Richie, drawing a long moan from his throat when his head falls back into his throw pillows.

“I love you so fucking much,” Richie tells him. Eddie finds his rhythm, focused entirely on covering Richie, climbing inside of him, fucking him so hard that Richie has no choice but to understand just how  _ much  _ Eddie loves him and wants to protect him. Richie clings to him, arms around his shoulders, thighs pressed tight around Eddie where he’s fucking into him.

“I got you,” Eddie repeats. Richie shudders, and then Eddie finds his prostate, and Richie exhales all his breath in one hard punch, nails digging into Eddie’s back as he bucks up into him. “I can take care of you, Rich, right?”

“Right,” Richie says easily. Eddie fucks the same spot as deeply as he can, over and over, until Richie’s coming untouched in between them and all but sobbing Eddie’s name. Eddie can see his own busted knuckles against Richie’s bruised shoulder, and that’s when he comes, filling Richie up and making him whine, oversensitive and writhing around him.

“Fucking shit, Richie,” Eddie murmurs. He drops his head down, kissing Richie on the chest, the throat, the cheek. Richie pulls his face in to kiss him directly on the mouth, sweating and gasping still. Eddie lets his head fall so he can hug Richie tightly, still inside of him.

“I love you,” Richie tells him. Eddie nods, and Richie rubs his back. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie says softly. Richie keeps him there, not letting him go even when Eddie shifts, so Eddie settles in, tucking his face into the hot juncture of Richie’s neck and his shoulder. Richie presses a kiss into his hair, so Eddie nips at his shoulder.

“I’m going to get a pepper spray keychain or something, I think,” Richie says.

“I’m going to get you a fucking  _ Taser,  _ you shithead,” Eddie tells him. “If anybody ever even  _ looks  _ at you like that again, Richie, I  _ swear,  _ I can’t be held accountable for my actions, I wanted to  _ kill  _ that guy—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Richie says, sliding a hand around to cup Eddie’s jaw again. “I don’t think I could be limited to just conjugal visits. You’re too hot.”

“Lucky you,” Eddie murmurs. Richie kisses him.

“I’m serious, thank you,” Richie says. Eddie shakes his head, then wraps Richie up in his arms again and tugs him back in.

“This is my job,” Eddie tells him, because it is. Sometimes, he feels like they were put on this Earth for each other. He doesn’t believe in fate or anything, but he can be sentimental sometimes. “I’m gonna take care of you, Rich.”

“Mm,” Richie mumbles into his throat. Eddie strokes his hair back from his face, then kisses him on the cheek again before he finally has to get up.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicolelianesolo) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/). I'm currently taking commissions there, as well!


End file.
